


Unity

by TaintedEmbrace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Murder, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Psychological Torture, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaintedEmbrace/pseuds/TaintedEmbrace
Summary: They were promised redemption. The forgotten children of the war who just wanted to do something right. They would have the chance to unite the worlds of the Muggles and Wizards in secret, to right all of their wrongs. But with great power comes corruption. Will he blindly follow his latest mission or will he risk it all? [ Slow burn eventual Dramione. Post-war. ]
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 3





	1. More For Me

**Author's Note:**

> I have recently started a new fic to release on a weekly basis with Surround Me. Let me know what you think! The first three chapters are out now.

_ They were promised redemption.  _

Her fingers trembled as they tugged back through long raven locks on the head that was bowed between her knees. The splattering of crimson across her sleeve was beginning to take on a rust tint that freckling her clothing and across her cheeks. She rocked on the ball of her foot as she perched on the edge of the mattress. Each shuddering breath shook her small frame, her movements reaching a fevered pace. 

It was never supposed to turn out this way. He never agreed to this, none of them had. This was not what they signed up for. 

“Pansy.” The girl paid no mind. His voice was distant and distorted, warped as if he were underwater. 

The mattress sunk under his weight as he cautiously came to her side. He smoothed his palm across her back in a circular motion, a feeble attempt at comfort, but her sobbing only intensified with the contact. This was her third mission in the last month, third  _ kill _ in the last month. Each one brought her closer and closer to the brink of instability. She was nearing the edge of the cliff and the slightest thing could send her hurling over the edge. 

Really, who could really blame her? 

“Pansy, it will all be alright. Think of it as just a bad dream, we are going to wake up one day, far from this prison” his voice was soft, how one would reassure a child. 

He knew that words were not much, but he had to go through the motions. There needed to be some semblance of normalcy and comfort. She deserved that much.

Even if nothing could truly ease the pain.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, her tone bitter as she choked back sobs. 

“Look, we get through it,” he continued to push on. “We always do. You have got to keep it together, you cannot let them see how this is effecting you.” 

His words caused her face to scrunch with a mixture of anger and panic. Pansy rose with a jolt as if shock, her voice reaching near hysteria as her fear turned into outrage. 

“It’s easy for you to be calm! When was the last time you took a life? When was the last time you even were out on a bloody mission?” The tears that had been swelling in her eyes now freely flowed over her cheeks. 

Silence fell between them as he shook his head in dismay, unable to even recall the last time. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders at his loss for words. 

Had it really been that long? 

His time had started being allocated to training the new recruits or simple missions that consisted of information gathering or showing off the impressive abilities that Unity had at their disposal when it came to humanitarian acts. Providing water and shelter to a hurricane ravaged coastal town was in no way a comparison to an assassination hit on someone. The emotional turmoil each task caused were polar opposites. 

When  _ was _ the last time he was on a kill mission? 

“Exactly! Ever since you became her little… her little  _ pet _ , you haven’t had to lift a damn finger! You get to just sit back and—“

“Pansy, enough!” His voice cut through, loud and booming as he rose to his feet. 

Recently, the Overseer had taken to favoring him, but that was of no fault of his own. He felt nothing for the woman, just complete indifference. However, he knew better than to just cast away the kindness and benefits that came with such recognition from the one that called the shots. 

He knew that Pansy’s anger was misplaced. 

Draco took a steadying breath, scrubbing his palms over his face. 

This was just the anger speaking, the rolling after effect of her shock. 

Words would not be enough.

“No, Draco! It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Save the children! Feed the hungry! Save the world! Wasn’t that what we were promised? Now look at us!” 

She was right. 

But what could they do? 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” 

They were promised redemption. 

Recruiting the poor, damaged souls that the war had left in its wake had been a simple task. Many were orphaned or lost, having been on the losing side of the war. There was nothing left to believe in, no home to return to, no families that would embrace them and welcome them back into the world. Instead they were recruited under the false pretense that they would do something to make a difference in the world, a positive, good for once. Misled, unfortunate souls that were offered the change for redemption, anything that would distance them from the stigma their family names carried. A secret organization that had been working with the direct assistance of the Ministry rose with the intention of doing good. 

It always starts so innocently, doesn’t it? 

Perhaps in the beginning, it even had been. The missions that were handed to the new recruits made an obvious difference in the world they lived in as they began to rebuild what the war had ravaged and lent assistance to those that were displaced. An opportunity arose to reach out to the muggles, branding the organization as a charity. The tasks were never easy, but the impact on the lives of those without magic had a rippling effect. Stop a wildfire, minimize the impact of a collapsing building or natural disaster, bring resources to those without the ability or location to get them themselves: food, water, shelter. Simple things for the recruits and their magical capabilities, but an impactful feat and astounding to muggles. 

They were heralded as heroes, and, bloody hell, did it feel good to be on the right side for once. 

The limitation to what the wizards could do was seemingly endless and with it rose the trust and faith that muggles put in them. Everyone wants to feel like a hero, and they were practically superheroes. They were doing good and making huge strides for humanity as a whole. 

They would bring Unity to all, muggle or wizard. 

But with power, comes the opportunity for corruption. 

The muggles had trusted Unity with their greatest scientific advancements, the latest and most powerful technology. Anything that would help the organization that promised aid and world peace was given without a second thought. Technology, materials, food, transportation. 

Weapons. 

Corruption always seems to blindside those that are in the thicket of it, but it started so simple and escalated. Make someone disappear. Make a death look like an accident. Pin a murder on another organization. What started as making the world a better place spun into making it a better place if you had the resources to pay for Unity’s services. 

Unity had a seemingly endless supply of new recruits that were dying to join such a revolutionary and noble cause. Those in the wizarding world were unaware of what Unity did with its power, and it was strictly forbidden to talk about organization tasks with those that were not permitted to know. 

With that endless supply of new recruits came the ability to terminate anyone that no longer agreed with what the organization did, dared to expose its secrets, or that was considered a flight risk.

And now, they could be considered a flight risk. 

Hell, anyone with enough common sense to see through the false facade and knew that what they were doing  _ wasn’t good _ was a flight risk.

He was a flight risk. 

Draco reached out to take Pansy’s hands in his own, her fingertips trembling in his grasp.

“Pansy, we will not die here. We will get out, I just need you to be strong. Please, hold on a little longer for me,” his voice wavered, pleading with her. 

She pursed her lips together as if lost in thought. After a moment of silence, she shook her head and sighed in defeat. “What other option do I even have?” 

Slowly as if the slightest movement could startle her, Draco circled her shoulders with his arms and pulled her flush against his chest.. “You are the only family I have left. I cannot lose you too. Not like this.” 

Her face buried into the space between his pectoral muscles, hiding the tears that now freely flowed. Each sob wracked her body and her fingers curled into the back of his sweater for any semblance of stability. 

They had lost so much since the start for the war. Neither of them had parents or a home to go back to, all of which had either perished during the war or Unity had “relocated for their safety.” There was no guarantee that if they did escape that those they did have would be alive when they found them. 

A booming voice cut over the loudspeaker. “Agent 42 please report for briefing.” 

Pansy pulled back from Draco, her pupils wide and fingers clutching him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There had not been any scheduled missions for him on the docket. Why would he be sent now? Where? For what purpose?

An alarm seemed to sound in Pansy’s head, her panicked gaze flicking from the speaker back up to him again as if at any moment it might sound that a mistake had been made.. The tremble returned to her hold. 

The last missions she had been on had seemed to wear down on her and the thought of one of them not returning seemed to be a conversation they circled lately. 

He was never called off on a mission before knowing what it was and being able to reassure her that it was something simple, some meaningless escort task or package delivery. She knew this. She knew this was not normal. 

“I will be right back for you. Stay safe.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

Pansy had become the little sister that Draco never had after they joined Unity. Each mission apart was a risk for them to come back to the other missing. A risk that they would be alone in the hell they had gotten themselves into. A risk that he would continue to lose more and more of himself. 

Draco freed himself from her grasp and stepped back. Pansy remained rooted to the spot, the worry evident in her face and the tears continuing to freefall. 

“It’s okay. I promise. I will be right back.” 

With a final look back, Draco gathered his coat from the hook by the door and left. 

* * *

While Unity itself always looked so lush with living walls of plants that speckled the white walls with life, fountains with enchanted statues that would interact with those that sat at the edge of the marble ledge near them, and tasteful yet vibrantly colored art deco themed furniture that accented the otherwise clean area, the mission rooms were a stark contrast. 

Stepping into the room, the floor gave way from paneled wood flooring to sterile and clinical tile. Where the common areas of Unity always had a calming and relaxing scent of lemon and lavender, the mission rooms were scrubbed to eliminate all evidence of what may have transpired between the four walls and left a pungent overwhelming stench so strong it made his stomach roll. A large one way mirror was inset in metal panes that made up the walls so as to allow those in the room to be observed under the scrutinizing gaze of their Overseer. A single metal table with two equally uncomfortable chairs sat in the center of the room with a blindingly bright overhead light that always felt like it belonged in an interrogation room. 

And perhaps that’s what it was used for with some of the missions.

There were no other agents on the mission. The room was devoid of all other beings: just him and the guard to brief and then send him to the mission location. 

The agent reached across the table to flip the manila folder open. An in motion photograph was haphazardly tossed into the folder atop the other papers that detailed his mission. A young male stood awkwardly in frame, a nervous smile plastered on his face as he stared ahead. This lasted a few seconds before he seemed to look off camera for instruction and the smile dropped to a serious and tightlipped expression. His almond hair was pulled loosely back and flipped as his head turned in the repeated image. 

Draco would recognize any of his trainees anywhere. 

“What would be the purpose of this mission?” Draco kept his tone merely inquisitive despite the worry that was beginning to bubble beneath the surface. 

“A simple retrieval. Dissertation. AWOL. We are uncertain, but you know him best.” 

The guard dropped a duffel bag onto the metal table. With a fluid motion, he unzipped it to expose what was inside: running shoes, multiple pairs of jeans, nondescript solid black shirts, and, of course and most importantly, Draco’s wand. 

“We are under the assumption this will be a multi-day stake out. You will go alone and return with the target alive and unharmed.” The guard spoke matter of fact and without a hint of emotion. 

Draco glanced up to him in an attempt to read his face for any expression. Both the missing trainee and the guard were brought in together. Both trained under his wing. When you have so little left, you tend to cling to those around you and form close-knit bonds.

But there was no worry, no concern, no hope. Nothing to give away what he knew that Draco did not. 

Draco gave a solemn nod and picked up the folder, tucking it into the duffel bag before slinging it over his shoulder. The guard set a cloth down on the table, carefully unwrapping the portkey. 

With the barest of touches, Draco felt the familiar pull of the portkey activating and his surroundings swirled out of sight.


	2. By My Own Law

Twenty-four hours had passed from when Draco had accepted the mission. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to find his target.

In fact, he had found him within the hour of landing. 

The back corner of the pub provided the coverage that Draco needed to remain anonymous to his target. Dim lighting flickered off the walls and cast harsh shadows that obscured his features. The hood of his jacket was pulled up over the front of his face and masked his distinguishable stark white hair and facial structure. Though his head was tipped down, his eyes were trained on the young male that sat only a few tables away. 

He had delayed as long as possible, a simple attempt to gather as much information as possible on his subject before he would make his move to retrieve and return back to base. 

The male seemed almost carefree, oblivious to the fact that Unity had put a retrieval order on him. His elbows were propped on the bartop as he spoke to the barkeep. Though Draco was too far to hear the conversation, the male was brandishing his hands in wide motions, clearly engrossed in a tale of one of his adventures. The barkeep continued to politely smile and furtively glance at the clock. 

It was nearing 3 in the morning and the pub would be closing shortly. 

He must have taken a hint as he followed her gaze and rose from his seat, polishing off his drink as he dropped a handful of coins onto the counter before turning to disappear out the door. 

It was now or never. 

Draco quickly rose and took to the streets behind the subject. 

A chill had settled in the night air and the sliver of the moon that had pierced the sky had twinkled out of sight behind a thicket of trees and the gathering of clouds. Silence had fallen on the street, but the fall of his subject’s feet on the pebble covered path was unmistakable. The young man ducked around the corner of the building and into the darkness that the alleyway provided. Draco was an expert at tracking, silent yet quick on his target’s heels. 

“Zia.” His voice cut through like a knife. With a roll of his shoulders, he squared himself to block the path. Where his younger self had been tall and lanky, the years of Unity’s physical training had afforded him a toned build. Muscle was lean and rippled under the fabric that clung to his form beneath his jacket with his movements. He was quick and both the physical and magical power he possessed rolled off him in waves. 

The male started, dropping the freshly lit cigarette to the ground below and once more shrouding himself in darkness. “Draco. What are you doing here?” 

“You know you can’t just disappear, Zia.” Each step towards the target was slow and deliberate as if approaching a wounded animal that could lash out at any moment. 

In a sense, he was. . 

“You know what they do to us. What they make us do.” His fingers twitched, a nervous motion as they fell towards his sides. “I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to be free, yeah?” 

“We need to be released, you cannot just leave like this.” The distance between them had narrowed to only a few mere steps. With just a lunge Draco could have his hand on him and be back to Unity in the activation of the return portkey. 

“You and I both know they don’t just ‘release us,’ Draco” there was a bitter laugh that accompanied his words. 

“Sure they do, buddy,” Draco kept his tone even, calm, any attempt to not startle Zia as he reached out to him. “Why don’t you come back with me? We can smooth this whole thing over.” 

His palm was turned up, an invitation to take it. To trust him. 

“Don’t fuck with me, Draco,” Zia’s voice crescendoed with his anger. “You and I both know it’s not a release, it’s a bloody termination. You live for Unity or you die for Unity!” 

Zia’s arm ripped away as Draco reached for it, the hand at his side pulling his wand from his pocket. 

But Draco was seasoned, trained for just these sorts of situations. A wordless Expelliarmus and Zia’s wand was knocked from his hand where it clattered to his feet. With the distraction, Draco’s wand dropped out of the holster on his wrist and into his hand. 

“Just come back with me,” it was not a request, but instead a plea. 

“Kill me here. You and I both know that going back there is a death sentence.” Zia’s voice was hollow and dripping with defeat, but his eyes stayed locked on Draco’s. 

“I will talk to them. I can help, I will make sure nothing happens to you.” Once more Draco reached out with his free hand, his wand steadied in the other.

“I don’t want this life anymore. I want to be free. I want to feel the air in my hair, smell the salt of the sea, I want to fall in love!” A glassiness had risen in Zia’s arms and threatened to burst free. 

Draco paused. 

He understood that raging internal conflict. They all thought they would have so much more to live for, not that they would be captive animals that were only released when necessary. There was no life for them outside of the walls of Unity. There was no family, no friends, no love, only Unity. 

This pause was all Zia needed for one last desperate attempt. Metal flashed in his hand as he brought it up towards his neck.

“Stupify!” 

Zia’s body went rigid and collapsed before Draco. The knife that had been clutched in his hand only seconds ago clattered to the ground beside him. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Draco knelt slowly beside his young trainee. 

Gathering up Zia’s wand, he slid it into the band of his jeans before placing his hand on his target’s back and vanishing with the activation of the return portkey. 

\--- 

“Excellent job, Draco!” 

The familiar voice brought Draco out of his post teleportation disorientation. He blinked slowly against the harsh overhead light as he attempted to take in his surroundings. 

The portkey had dropped them not back in the mission room as usual, but instead in the Overseer’s office. 

“Victoria? Why are we here? This was a retrieval.” The confusion had subsided to panic. 

Victoria sat perched on her desk. Long, ivory legs were crossed, but a daring cut in her dress rode up to her hip and threatened to expose a dangerous amount of the young woman. Her crimson hair fell in soft waves down over her bare shoulders where they brushed just over the top of her breasts, barely containing themselves in the form fitting black evening gown she wore. Nails like talons curled to grip onto the edge of the desk, like a hawk observing its prey. 

She was never one for toning down the dramatics. 

“Oh, darling,” her laugh was piercing, cruel and without any hint of warmth. “You should have known from the start that this was not a simple retrieval. Did you not read the mission report?” 

She pushed off the desk and stalked towards the two men, closing the gap between them with ease. Each click of her heel against the ground below resonated through the large office like a gunshot. 

“He was missing, that was all that I needed to know. I brought him back. We need to go debrief.” His words were rushed, an urgency as his flight or fight kicked in. His body screamed for him to run, that they were in danger. 

By now the Stupify had begun to wear off. Draco took hold of Zia by the elbow and steered towards them towards the door both in an attempt to get them out of there and put space between himself and the Overseer. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

A blinding flash of green illuminated the room, the spell streaking forth and catching Zia between the shoulder blades. 

Draco spun on the spot and the room seemed to be thrown in slow motion. Victoria’s hair billowed around her small form as her wand aimed at the two men, eyes wild and the grin on her face like a woman unhinged. Like a woman he had known years ago that followed the path of power and threw her sanity to the wind for a chance at it. A woman that he could still hear cackle in his nightmares.

His arms curved to catch his trainee beneath the arms before his body landed on the cold marble floor below. The young man’s eyes were caught in a permanent state of shock as the chill set in almost instantaneously and the color had seeped from his form. A silent gasp was frozen in place on his lips. 

Time stood still for what felt like minutes but was only mere seconds. 

Shock left Draco unable to speak, the lifeless form of his former trainee, former friend, collapsed against his chest. The familiar light that had always burned in his eyes was gone, replaced by a glassy, vacant stare. 

Silence descended upon the room as Victoria stood her ground and shock reeled through Draco. The breath caught in his lungs began to burn, screaming for air. His mind reeled and all rational thought was gone, only screaming for his legs to move, to run.

The world came crashing down, time once more accelerating like the adrenaline that had begun to course through his veins. 

“What the bloody hell have you done?!” Rage burst through his shock like a phoenix, his gaze now transfixed up on the Overseer. 

Slowly and deliberately she stepped before the pair. Close enough to smell the overwhelming floral and black currant of her perfume. Close enough to reach out to them.

Close enough that he could snap her neck if his arms were not supporting the trainee that he had betrayed.

“A team is only as strong as its weakest link. I was merely eliminating ours.” There was no hint of remorse in her tone, only the factual statement that she punctuated with a shrug of her bare shoulder.

As if killing someone were nothing more than swatting a pesky fly that flew too close. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong, he was a child! I could have helped him!” 

“Draco, my love,” a single taloned finger reached out to tip his chin up to meet her gaze, “it would do you well to remember that I am the one that created all of you and I can most certainly eliminate my creations should I choose.” Leaning forward, she pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

Her grip dropped as she reached out to tussle his hair. An act that could be seen as affectionate with a child, but was nothing but condescending and belittling to him. That’s all he was to her: a pawn, a child. 

Draco was rooted in place, Zia still firmly clutched to his chest. 

Was this the cruelty that Pansy always spoke of? Had he been blind to it all along? 

“Get him out of my face,” Victoria gestured towards Zia with a flourish of her hand before turning on her heel and sauntering back to her desk. 

* * *

Time had seemed to accelerate and pause all at once. Draco had lost any concept of what time let alone what day it was anymore. Hunger pains that had once come like clockwork in waves that left his body doubled over in pain had long since given up and were replaced by the constant nausea, a byproduct of both the lack of sustenance and the overwhelming guilt that had begun to consume him. 

This was entirely his fault. If only he had listened. 

Unity was known internally for their ruthless discipline measures towards those that deliberately disobeyed the organization’s rules. To see it first hand though? To see it take someone that he knew and was not just another numbered face that he passed in the halls? 

He should have listened.

He should have let him go.

The distant click of his door lock announced a visitor. Soft footfall padded across the floor towards him, hesitant and cautious as if approaching a wild animal. They did not speak, and he could only hope that it was someone here to terminate him for his evident lack of ambition to carry on Unity’s will. Instead, the mattress gave under a weight that sat beside him and a warm hand reached out to brush stray locks of hair from his field of vision.

“Draco?” Pansy’s voice was quiet, full of concern and alarm at his present state. 

His voice came in a rasp, harsh and dry from lack of use, “Why are you here?” 

Her brow creased as she looked down at him.

What was once a well-kept and clean face now had the scruff and stubble of days without seeing a razor. His eyes were sunken, ringed in dark purple and hues of blue bloomed throughout and drastically aged his appearance. Porcelain skin now took on a sickly grey tinge and his cheekbones were sunken beneath his shaggy platinum hair. 

The man before her was a hollow shell of the one that had left on the mission nearly a week ago. 

Pansy shifted her position on the bed, carefully laying down beside him and enveloping him in her embrace. Despite her affection, he remained unmoving. 

“I had no idea you were even back. They said you returned days ago, why didn’t you tell me?” Though inquisitive, her words were drowning in worry. 

“It’s my fault,” he croaked, a silent sob catching his words.

“What? What are you talking about?” 

The silence that fell was deafening. Fingertips against his cheek gently turned him to look at her, but his gaze only stared vacantly ahead. 

To be in such a state of distraught alone would be a cause for alarm, her voice was now more urgent. “Draco? What was your mission? What did they make you do?” 

“I found Zia.” 

Pansy had known about Zia’s disappearance. The young trainee had been missing for over two weeks now, disappearing on a simple reconnaissance mission. He had been Draco’s shadow for over a year when he had first come to Unity two years post the war. He was full of life, of hope, of the want to make a difference in the world that had orphaned him. No matter where he had come from or been through, that was all he wanted: to be a light in this world.

Pansy knew that name well.

“Where is he?” When Draco’s gaze only fell, she pushed on, “Draco? What happened to him?” 

“I did.” His words fell on a whisper, barely audible.

“They didn’t… You didn’t…?” Pansy searched his face. 

Draco had been the only family that Pansy knew now. The one that picked up her pieces and stitched her back together every time she fell apart. He was gentle as a summer’s breeze and without an ounce of malice in him. He gave up all that the scared boy as a child had held in high regard with his new start with Unity. 

Unity had recognized the intelligence and cunning charm that he had held early on and assassination missions were no longer on the table for him. They used his powers in ways that had more impact, more meaning. 

He wasn’t cruel. 

He couldn’t have. 

His voice was broken, only clips of his sentence understandable. 

The only words she caught were “Victoria” and “terminated.”

But that was all she needed. 

Pansy pulled his face to her chest, wrapping her body around him as if it was a protective barrier. 

There was nothing she could say. There was nothing anyone could say. 


	3. Medicate

“I managed to snag your favorite dessert!” Her voice was light and airy, beaming as she flopped down onto his bed beside him. 

Draco groaned, snagging a pillow from beside him and curling it over his face. 

“Draco Malfoy, you know that you cannot keep this behaviour going,” there was concern masked by the stern tone she attempted. 

With a sigh, he dropped the pillow behind himself and rose up onto his elbows. Propped on his side, he stared at the girl that relaxed beside him. 

Despite their current predicament, she had come a long way from when they had joined. Where a sneer had been permanently etched on her face through their teenage years, she had a more relaxed smile now as she spoke and it softened her features. Her once short ebony hair had grown to the middle of her back, always pulled back in a tie where it would cascade in waves. Their uniform had always been casual, but it suited her. Her form had become toned, almost athletic, from years of training and the stark black leggings and simple grey t-shirt hugged her form in a favorable way. 

He had gotten to watch her grow from the snobbish child to the mature woman before him. Unity might have damned them, but there were moments he was grateful for. 

The inquisitive look on her face informed him that he had not been paying attention to her ramblings. 

“What?” He smirked, pretending to have been listening.

With a scoff and a groan, Pansy thrust a small vial into his hand, “Never mind. You know the rules. Drink up, then meal time.” 

Murky white liquid swirled in the vial that was presented to him. 

Unity had worked tirelessly with different pharmaceutical companies and wizard herbologists to concoct the most potent and powerful chemical that they could, and it was not only their prized possession but their insurance that their employees could never leave. Highly addictive, it gave their agents the advantage with enhanced strength and clarity. A daily dose to supplement and keep it in their system was then swapped for a more potent dose in the field. 

To escape Unity meant the need to break the addiction.

To break the addiction normally had spelled death. 

Unity knew what they were doing, and if they could not have their agent then no one could.

He knew that arguing was of no use. The tell-tale tremors of withdrawal had been tearing through his body almost hourly at this point. Thumbing the top off the vial, Draco quickly downed it.

The color had quickly returned to his cheeks within the last day since Pansy had found him. While the dark circles had yet to subside, they were not such a stark contrast against his pale skin. Life had begun to return to his eyes, though a battle still raged within their depths. 

Draco stared at her expectantly, one hand outstretched as he awaited his lunch. 

Instead, Pansy shifted closer to him, another bag that had been out of sight now clutched close to her chest. 

“You look like shit, you have got to clean up.” 

She produced the bag, unzipping it to expose the shaving supplies and a comb that she had managed to smuggle out of the men’s bathroom to him. 

“You expect me to shave without a mirror or water?” He arched an eyebrow at her, settling back into the mound of pillows behind him. 

“No, I can do it.” 

He mulled it over for a moment before curiosity gave way and he willed her to proceed. 

With no protest, Pansy situated herself closer to him. She spread a mound of shaving cream into her hands, giving it a quick rub between her palms to warm it up before applying an even layer across his cheeks. The excess was swiped off across her thigh as she reached into the bag for the razor and a discarded shirt from the floor. 

Slowly, with a firm and steady hand, she carefully made the first drag through the cream on his face to expose the now cleanly shaven flesh below. As she wiped off the razor onto the shirt, she smirked.

“My mother used to take care of my father like this. Perhaps in another life, we wouldn’t have been here. Perhaps we would have kept that school-aged romance going.. ” A teasing tone was masked with her attempt at a serious expression. 

Draco scowled beneath the foam that caked his face, unable to make a snide remark for fear of injury as Pansy drew the razor across his flesh once more.

“I’m only kidding, you know. Though, I do wish for a life outside of these walls.” She brandished the blade in a wave around them to emphasize her point. “I always felt like a prisoner when  _ you-know-who _ made life at Hogwarts impossible, but it seems almost like a vacation in comparison to this.” 

Draco’s forehead wrinkled as he caught a forlorn gaze in her eyes. 

“Oh! Not that I want to go back to that by any means,” the worried look in his eyes resolved and she resumed her careful ministrations. “I miss those carefree days back at Hogwarts, before everything went to shit. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I wouldn’t have been such a little prat. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t have ended up here.” 

A heaving sigh escaped her before she continued, “I think I took too much for granted. I cared too much about the wrong things and not enough about what mattered. We all just believed what our parents fed us and carried on with our prejudices.” She tipped his chin away from her with her thumb and forefinger, hiding the glassy look that had collected in her eyes. 

Blinking back the moisture, she took a labored breath in an attempt to recompose herself. “I know we can’t change what we did, but I know this isn’t it. This can’t be what life has in store for us.” 

Dropping the razor back into the bag, she gathered up the shirt in her lap and handed it to him. 

Draco slowly rubbed the shirt over his face as he collected his thoughts. She wasn’t wrong. They were kids. Shitty kids, but kids nonetheless. Sure, they had done some terrible things in their formative adolescent years, but nothing that this should be how they were atoning. 

No one deserved this. 

Raking his fingers back through his hair, he took a breath before drawing Pansy tight to his frame. They might have been dealt a terrible hand in life, but he would make sure to shelter her from the cruelty to the best of his ability. 

No matter the cost to him, it was what family did. 

If he didn’t protect her, who would? 

* * *

“Boss says ya specially requested to swap jobs with Parkinson.” There was a hint of confusion mingling amongst the amusement as the guard twisted the key to allow them access to the mission room.

Draco gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as he passed through the ward that acted as a second layer of security to the room, the tingle of magic rippling across his flesh and causing the hairs on his arm and neck to stand on end. “Felt I needed a bit more action and she seemed to get the most adventurous missions,” he lied. 

The first rule of Unity was that it was all you needed. To admit to another person within the organization that he cared about anything other than the missions they were given would be suicide for himself and death for anyone else involved. 

The guard laughed, a reassuring tone as Draco let go of a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “I hear ya. Sometimes I think this guard duty is too dull, but then I see how some of ya come back and I’m glad to be right here.” 

Draco gave a dry, nervous laugh as he approached that familiar metal table in the center of the room, but there was something off today. He couldn’t place exactly why the feeling was creeping up in the pit of his stomach, but the thought alone made his stomach twist into a knot of nausea.

A garment bag lay draped over the back of the metal chair across from the table. A single manilla folder lay open in the center of the table. The usual packet of papers were carefully stacked and paperclipped to one side of the folder: a detailed list of information on the location, those that would be in attendance, the mission, and what to do when the mission was complete. The opposite side had a single photograph paper-clipped to it to put a face to the mission. 

As Draco stepped towards the table, he took in the image that lay staring up at him. 

A young witch moved in a loop in the frame. She would smile before tucking a stray lock of unruly chestnut hair behind her ear. Her smile reached her eyes, charming and contagious in any other instance. He could almost hear the airy laugh that she silently made to whoever had taken the photo. She seemed to catch his gaze in a smoldering one of her own.

A chill coursed through his body. The usual frigid atmosphere of the room was almost too much to bear. 

Her face was one he would never not recognize. 

“Looks like yer on an assassination mission today.” The guard pushed the folder closer. 

Draco felt his mouth dry as he tried to speak, “Why an assassination?”

“Ya know that information is none of a concern t’ ya, yeah?”

A buzzing began to flood Draco’s senses as the guard continued to speak. Each word was lost in the cacophony of noise inside of his head. How would he even be able to complete such a mission? An assassination surly was not outside of his wheelhouse and Unity had forced his hand in the past. 

But could he do it this time? 

Who wanted her assassinated? And why? This had to be a mistake. 

“Ya understand yer mission and ready to go?” 

With a steadying breath, Draco steeled his emotions. One wrong slip of his inner turmoil and this mission could be handed over to someone else. Someone who took less thought in this predicament and would follow through without a second thought.

He could figure this out. 

There were 12 hours until the mission would come to a close. 

He would figure this out.

“Yes. To assassinate Hermione Granger.” 

The clock ticked. 

11 hours, 59 minutes, and 59 seconds. 


End file.
